


Count Killers

by Calesvol



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 10:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19197034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calesvol/pseuds/Calesvol
Summary: She's not the sort who can plant roots in one place. He has a thing for magicians.





	1. Chapter 1

Warning(s): T, some violence

* * *

For the last several months, anyone looking at their lives would see them happy. As above, so below. With spring just beginning to mature into summer, the heights of the Carpathians had grown lush with verdant greenery and the forests growing vast and long among the many villages and spurs of those mountains had seemed taller, cleansed. A castle that had once been a symbol of fear and annihilation was becoming gentled and renewed, the home of a new Count. Of course, with a little help from a certain Speaker was it able to move a few notches over, off the site of the Belmont clan’s ancestral castle. Working together, a foundation had rose from the ruin and what had once been was becoming new again.

They were making lives for themselves, but it wasn’t enough for her.

Trevor and Alucard had their place, their livelihoods. It didn’t take a stranger to see the looks exchanged between them, those fleeting touches that said so much more. They were the last of their lines now, and together they’d found companionship in each other. Sypha couldn’t be happier when the trio had gone to a tavern one night and Trevor had looped his arm over Alucard’s shoulders and with a stein in his other hand had declared they were together.

She couldn’t remember the last time Alucard had appeared so happy, but maybe it hardly mattered when that hadn’t been the first night with them that she’d smiled until her face hurt.

They were in love. An impossibility made possible, and life moved on. Stone became glued together by mortar, and the townspeople felt two new shadows that seemed such a contrast and yet a balance of each other. A monument to what never would be again, and another growing from the ashes of a future that promised to be.

Lisa Țepeș’ work was revived and continued in her son, working from the foundation of his father’s sciences. The coupling of genius in a man who wanted to bring nothing but good for them.

It was happy, it was beautiful. The future that promised to come seemed so serene that anyone would be dazzled in the sunrise.

Yet, why did Sypha Belnades only see the shadow that cast long from her heels?

It was one such day that the blonde sat in the lee of a shady oak tree, a pile of heavy tomes from the Belmont library stacked at her side, that amid the lively activity flourishing in the underbrush of this copse of trees that a long shadow crossed the bit of sunlight filtering through that had allowed Sypha ample light enough to read. Glancing up, Alucard’s statuesque form loomed high over her, even though she felt no threat from the sight of her dear friend.

“Alucard? What’s wrong? Please tell me Trevor isn’t trying to convince you to let him build a tavern in the Belmont Estate again,” Sypha said with an exaggerated sigh. If only because she wished she was lying about that.

An amused smile flitted to Alucard’s stone-carved features. “Remarkably, no.” From his lapel pocket did he produce a simple, wax-sealed letter that he bent to proffer her. Turning it in her hands, the seal was a scarlet beetle accented in gold. “This came for you today. The courier that did so assured me it was meant for you, and you alone.”

Sypha regarded it with furrowed brows. “I wonder if it’s another missive from some bishop. They seem rather adamant in trying to dissect the Speakers.”

Alucard shook his head. “That wax seal doesn’t belong to any of the bishops in Wallachia.” His head gazed back towards the castle. “If you would like to read it alone...”

Sypha waved a hand dismissively. “If it’s supposed to be so private, they’ll just have to deal with me reading it aloud before one of my closest friends, won’t they?” While another ghost of a smile flickered on Alucard’s lips, he genuflected near before taking a seat near Sypha as she carefully worked a nail beneath the seal that opened it without destroying it. Before them, she unfurled the twice-folded parchment that was lavishly ornamented with violet and tyrion purple flora, skipping to the signature first. “It’s from a Countess Nadia of Vesuvia. Where have I heard that name before?”

Alucard craned over to study the signature, politely averting his eyes from the contents before Sypha had a chance to read them. His eyes narrowed studiously. “It’s genuine. I’ve seen the Countess’ signatures before, and of the type of ink native to Vesuvia.” His silence after was assent for her to continue.

Sypha read the letter aloud, and the gist was clear: the Countess had heard of the trio’s exploits in saving the world from Dracula’s wrath, and wanted to offer her personal thanks. Yet, it went on to detail how Dracula’s sympathizers had been spotted in the city and had been causing trouble. And that she’d heard word of Sypha’s specific clan of Speakers that had passed through not even a fortnight ago. Details she wished to confer to Sypha in person as an honored guest should she choose temporary residence within the city while dealing with such undertakings.

After she finished, cornflower blue eyes switched to Alucard’s. “I… What do you think? Can we trust this?”

Alucard appeared thoughtful as he mulled over an answer. “Years ago my father and mother were invited to the late Count Lucio’s masquerade in honor of his birthday. Yes, it was roughly four years ago. Compared to her husband, the Countess won both my parents’ respect. The Count...hardly as much. My father never accepted another invitation after, but they did personally speak to them both,” the Dhampir replied thoughtfully, holding his chin in contemplation. “Yet, almost three years ago the Count the murdered and his widow has been ruling Vesuvia since.”

“So...what you’re saying is, I can trust her?” Sypha surmised carefully, canting her head at her friend.

“Yes, in a manner of speaking. I would still excise caution, but if we can find these followers, it may lead us to Carmilla who is still at large. And you might be able to find your clan again.”

Sypha swallowed thickly at the mention of them, setting the letter and heavy tome aside as she gathered her knees to hug to her chest, resting her chin atop her kneecaps. “It’s been almost a year, Alucard. Why haven’t they thought to come back? Dracula is gone, and so is the danger.” She sighed deeply until she perked at the sensation of Alucard gently looping an arm around her shoulders, resting their temples comfortingly together.

“You should go to them, Sypha. You deserve closure just as much as Belmont and I have,” Alucard said as Sypha leaned into their contact.

“You’ve noticed then, haven’t you?” Sypha replied with a strained smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; nothing escapes you. As much as I would love another adventure with you both, you still have so much to do here. And...I’ve always been a nomad. I’m not sure if I can just...plant roots and stay there.” The admission made her throat close, but Alucard’s presence made it hurt so much less.

“Whatever you choose to do, or wherever you might go, know that you’ll always have a home to return to, Sypha,” Alucard assured gently, Sypha giving a small, wan smile.

“Thank you, my friend. Thank you both. You, and Treffy.”

* * *

With final preparations made, a horse saddled, and farewells given to both of her dearest friends, Sypha had set off the dawn of the day after with the letter in hand and a map Trevor had managed to procure from the local cartographer. It wasn’t an easy journey, to be sure, and she did feel a strangeness at not having her two dearest friends with her this time around, but she also felt a sense of liberation at sleeping freely under the stars like she used to with her fellow Speakers. That she was meant for this nomadic life of traveling, observing, and learning about the world. This time, like Trevor had first illuminated them months ago, she had a notebook she recounted to the brim everything she saw and learned. Filling it with notes in the margins, and dedicating some pages to nonsensical attempts at illustrations.

Sypha felt more like herself than she ever had in those peace times, even though Trevor and Alucard had brought uncountable amounts of light into her life. With Dracula gone, it felt as though she could face anything and anyone that crossed her path.

It was a fortnight into her journey that she was staying on the borders of a town known as Karnassos, one that shared borders with the vast desert of Nopal she thankfully didn’t have to cross. Piers and other such warfs jutted out onto the sea where seafaring vessels meant for mercantile and fishing needs were moored and bobbed languidly alongside stately and rich pleasure crafts. Light cast long upon the water, and people celebrating the summer equinox made her enjoy her evening. Her liver chestnut steed was grazing on the tough sea grasses, their encampment at the foot of a large dune that hid the firelight cast from her fire.

Having finished a skewered fish and leaving the entrails and remains aside for the seagulls to scavenge, Sypha started when she thought she heard bawdy laughter and roughhousing. The Speaker peered at either flank of her encampment, squinting out at the sea for any signs of movement or a silhouette. ...Nothing. “Some drunken revelers, I’m sure,” the blonde shrugged off before smoothing down her bedroll, yawning. “Good night, Theia.” She curled into a fetal position, and began to try and sleep.

It wasn’t even an hour later before she heard rustling in the sea grass and what sounded like someone unsheathing a sword or dagger, eyes flickering open despite not budging an inch. Sypha strained to listen, but again the peace was interrupted by sand skittering down a dune as people made their descent, guttural whispers barely audible. As her fire dulled to embers, she felt the physic looming of not one, but several men.

So, this was the welcome wagon Karnassos had chosen to roll out for her?

Just as one of them bellowed the command to attack, Sypha was up like a shot and already gesturing her magical signs. A gust of air ambushed one man from behind and sent him flying several feet to collide into one of the sand bars in the shallows with a resounding splash, brow knit with implacable concentration. They were a brutish, muscled lot by what little she could see. But all the same, she bore no desire to kill any human.

“Damn bitch!” Sypha wheeled behind and used another volley of a draft to dispel an enormous swath of sand to buffet her attackers who sputtered and coughed, choking on sand. She smirked victoriously and their defeat heightened, knowing they didn’t stand a chance.

Of course, that was before a stone hit her square on the nape of her neck at the base of her skull with a loud crack, sending the Speaker reeling. A crude shout in a language she didn’t understand saw a swift kick to her gut as Sypha cried out in pain, curling into it while another overwrought her and forced her hands behind her back and bound them with rough rope that burned her skin, it felt like. Hogtying her feet and wrists together in some complex, inescapable knot, her blurring vision edged in and out of consciousness as they set to raid her camp while another stood a triumphant guard over her.

She was too wracked with pain to imagine what it could be, but as a woman traveling alone, it didn’t take much to know exactly what these thugs had in mind. “Damn you,” Sypha cursed feebly, but the gloating lot didn’t seem to have heard her. She coughed, groaning softly as pain spiked through her petite frame.

“Now, now, gentleman, that’s no way to treat a lady!” a boastful voice addressed them, Sypha raising her head enough to see a man in a cape like unfurled raven’s wings from atop the dune, snapping in the breeze like a flag. Squinting harder, she could almost make out a mop of auburn and a plague doctor’s mask. The new arrival unsheathed not one, but two swords and trained them upon the remaining four men that hadn’t been rendered unconscious.

“Piss off, ya damn nancy boy! We found ‘er first!” a bald ginger among them barked to the tall, slender shadow of a man.

The air grew oppressive, and quiet at that. Then, a levity unexpected. “Excellent. I _love_ being underestimated,” the man quipped roguishly, sounding like he had all the hubris in the world at his back. Sypha didn’t know whether to be grateful or dread some impending disaster.

He twirled his twin sabers in a flourish once before leaping dramatically into the fray like a bird taking flight. “ _En garde!_ ” The four men swiftly unsheathed their own cutlasses and came at him like raging bulls, the stranger laughing as he caught one’s blade to the hilt in a war of attrition. “Did I ever tell you gents about the time I had a one-legged race with Redbeard down at Port Tremaire? It’s true!” he cajoled conversationally while heaving off his assailant and parrying another’s with a manful grunt. “He has a peg leg, you know. So, technically, he didn’t have to hop around like this!” The auburn-haired man dashed his blade to cut deep into the Achilles’ heel of the ginger, the man howling in pain and hobbled.

“So, here I am,” the man continued prattling while ducking beneath a high arc of a cutlass, “my foot tied at my knee and looking completely ridiculous. Yes, yes, I know exactly what you’re thinking.” He sputtered when caught with a swift hook in the ribs, laughing breathlessly while trying to catch his breath. “ _’How can this fool win against Redbeard? It’s impossible!’_ Well, never fear, my fine, ah— _tattooed_ friends!” The auburn managed to recover before strafing one’s gut with the edge of his blade and drawing blood.

Sypha stared incredulously. Who was this idiot? And did her life really depend on this peacock? Thinking fast, the blonde managed to sign even while restrained and summoned a fierce gale of freezing, biting winds that froze two’s ankles together and rendered them immobile, begrudgingly inspired by her savior’s previous move. The assailants cursed crudely and clawed uselessly at the ice, but it was simply too thick to overcome.

“Right, well, so here we are, hopping down a pier with all of Port Tremaire betting against me—huh?” The man stared dumbly at the sudden accumulation of ice at the men’s ankles, but shrugged and cuffed the hilts of his sabers upon their heads that knocked them out cold, beaked countenance glancing at Sypha who he saw signing with glowing spheres manifest on her fingertips. “ _Ah_. A magician,” he noted with a noise of discovery.

“Behind you!” Sypha cried out while the masked man had been distracted, turning too slowly for the brutal onslaught of the last criminal’s huge, meaty fists that smashed onto the auburn’s skull that sounded with a harsh crack and sent her impromptu savior reeling to the sand and curling into a hissing ball, clutching his skull, while the raging tempest of a beast was prepared to stomp the slender man’s head in. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Feeling like she was regaining some of her bearings, Sypha’s hands flashed with another sign as she summoned another fierce blizzard that froze that man solid mid-offense, fists raised over his head that made him appear for all the world like an ice sculpture instead of a man.

Her would-be savior gingerly unfurled himself gingerly after the attack never came, propping himself on his elbows and ranging his vision tepidly. “We won?” he queried aloud, voice muffled by his mask, then regaining his original gusto. “We won!”

“I had this all under control, you know,” Sypha interjected sourly, visage unimpressed despite still being hogtied.

The man gathered his feet beneath him and squatted to undo Sypha’s bonds. “You’re clearly very powerful, I’ll give you that much,” the man conceded as he undid them, the blonde wincing as she tried standing, only to be sundered by the precipitation of pain. “Hang on, now. You’re in no shape to walk just yet. Even if it’s quite commendable after all that.” That didn’t do much to stop Sypha from staggering to stand like a newborn foal.

“I told you, I’m fine,” Sypha insisted despite the trickle of blood she felt at her nape. Reduced to a genuflection, her gaze was hazy. “I just need to catch my breath. Ugh, just who are you, anyways?”

“A doctor,” he answered, voice unobstructed as he’d removed his mask in a flourish. Sypha studied his pale features, the right-swept bangs that hung over an eye-patch. Well, he was handsome, she gave him that much. A wide smile broke upon his features, nearing a grin and self-congratulatory. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. My name is Doctor Julian Devorak, and I think I’d know such a lovely visage as yours if we’d met before.”

Sypha resisted the aggressive urge to roll her eyes. “My name is Sypha Belnades. I’m a Speaker, from Wallachia,” she clipped tersely without much else than dusting herself off. “Look, it’s not that I’m not grateful, doctor, but this isn’t enough to really know you. You could be a vulture just as much as those men were hyenas. How do I know I can trust you?”

However, Julian appeared more starstruck than anything, beaming at her. “Sypha Belnades? I know you! You and your friends were part of that Sleeping Soldier prophecy and you took down that nefarious Count Dracula and his minions. Very impressive, if I do say so myself,” Julian nodded while taking his chin thoughtfully. His lone gray than studied her closely. “What brings you all the way here? Wallachia’s all the way back there.” He jerked his thumb vaguely in a direction opposite of Kornassos for emphasis.

Sypha folded her arms, eyes gazing out on the water before turning back. God, this man was so tall she was practically straining her neck to match eyes! “...I’m journeying to Vesuvia. That’s all you need to know,” she waved off before turning towards her camp to recover what she could, cleaning what mess those ruffians had made.

“Wait, did you say Vesuvia?” Julian echoed with a Cheshire cat’s grin, practically gloating. Then, he smugly folded his arms and puffed his chest like a pigeon. “Why, I’m a native! If you’re going to Vesuvia for the first time, you ought to have a guide.” He thumbed his his own chest as indication, Sypha fixing him with an irritated look.

Still, a shot of pain raced her spine and she grimaced. “Ah! I… I can manage, I think,” she winced even while Julian fretted over her, his bravado fading somewhat. His hands hovered over her shoulders, gaze apologetic.

“Can I have a look at that, at least? You won’t be in any condition to continue like this,” Julian reasoned, Sypha meeting his gaze reluctantly as she grew silent and crossed her legs on the sand.

“...Alright,” she assented at last while lifting some of her short hair from view where Julian crouched down to peer in closely. Furtively his gaze switched from both sides before he exhaled softly on her nape, Sypha shivering minutely at the sensation.

She flinched when he pressed his hand flat over the area, but didn’t resist. “Breathe deeply. That’s it...” he lulled, while, unseen by her, a strange marking on his throat bloomed paler against the relief of his skin and he shuddered another breath. Curiously, Sypha felt that pain ebbing away, of the blood drying up. While she turned to silently marvel at him, Julian plopped behind her on his rump to catch his breath while the blonde scooted away to give him space.

“What did you do?” she asked incredulously, Julian panting briefly as a few beads of sweat dotted his brow. As someone who practiced magic and was a recorder of history, of course her interest was piqued despite how the man waved her wonderment away.

“I healed you, that’s all,” Julian grinned enigmatically at her, waving off any concern. “Now then, how do you feel about my being your guide now, hm, _hmmm~_?” he goaded with a wide simper. Deflecting, obviously, but Sypha supposed she could glean the truth from him later.

“Alright, fine,” Sypha said as she rose and fixed him with a flat look despite his show of enthusiasm. “But no antics! I have...important business to attend to there, and I’d rather not draw attention.”

Julian was practically ready to leap from where he stood. “Splendid!” Chummily did he bring Sypha near in a partial headlock while the woman openly bristled. “Ahh, you won’t regret it, Sypha! There’s no one else who knows Vesuvia like the back of their hand. And I know her quite well,” he finished with a cheeky wink.

“Okay, fine! Just... _please_ stop touching me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Warning(s): T, graphic blood and violence

* * *

Seeing as Karnassos was simply too dangerous to think of remaining there, the tireless duo saddled their steeds—Julian’s a bit of a ways off on the boardwalk proper—and set off through the city gates and rode out into the merchant’s roads that would lead them directly to Vesuvia. Their horses, though still tired, were able to make the journey as it was only a few hours’ ride from the fellow port city.

The star-spangled sky spanned overhead broad and unobstructed, with feeble beginnings of the sunrise just blearily waking upon the eastern horizon. Sypha, though still admittedly exhausted, felt too restless to think of succumbing to it. “Why did you really want to accompany me? I don’t suppose my thinking that you want to ride the coattails of celebrity no longer holds true, does it?” Sypha asked suddenly through their companionable silence, surprising considering they’d just met.

Julian’s horse snorted and the man himself seemed to stiffen, perpetual smirk faltering some. “I...have a friend, let’s say. In Vesuvia who’s likely worried sick, and...hm, well, I’m not one to keep friends waiting,” Julian said at last, their horses keeping an even pace of each other, tossing up dust on the well-worn roads.

Sypha nodded obliquely. “I can understand that much. Going back on what I said earlier, there’s people I’m looking for, too.” When Julian gave her quiet look of understanding, she felt a small clout of guilt burble in her breast. Fixing her gaze on the road, gingerly did she accede, “...I’m sorry for before. It’s not the Speaker’s way to be so rude to someone who did them a kindness. Especially since so many people are towards us, but we strive to be altruistic regardless.”

Julian’s mount came to a halt completely as Sypha took belated notice and wheeled Theias about some, regarding the doctor strangely. It was then that he jolted from his initial shock with a cutting flush and uncertain line to his lips. “I, ah—please, don’t worry about it. Hah, I think I preferred the testy Sypha,” he murmured to himself before catching himself when he realized she heard him, flush darkening. The Speaker half-thought he might combust. “Ah—no! That’s not what I meant. Simply, that, hmm, uh, I simply—please, don’t be worried on my behalf! When I get you into enough trouble, you’ll see it’s not worth the fuss at all.” Furiously flustered, he barked a cough into his hand.

Sypha couldn’t help but laugh, shoulders shaking with mirth. “You’re so strange! I think I’ve seen a broken compass more certain on where it wants to go,” she said with another peal of laughter, earning an indignantly scarlet expression of half-hearted indigence.

“I’m not a broken compass!” Julian whined in protest, spurring his steed trot to Sypha’s side. Simply so he could meet her amusement head on. Folding his arms across his chest with a huff, a puff of air fluttered through his unruly auburn bangs. “I know exactly where I’m going, at all times! Or else, I wouldn’t be where I am today.” He grinned crookedly at her, but Sypha didn’t buy it for a minute.

Instead, the blonde let the horse follow the trail itself while she studied a map, frowning while Julian leaned in curiously. “This only tells me where Vesuvia is. I don’t have a map of the city proper,” Sypha lamented in brief frustration. “And I have to get to the palace by noon tomorrow.”

“That’s what I’m here for, aren’t I?” Julian interjected gallantly, a hand sincerely on his breast before he crumpled at the mention of where exactly she had to be. “Wait, ah—the palace? You mean the Countess’ and not anywhere else?”

Sypha nodded at him. “Well, yes.” She sighed, knowing this would go completely back on her brief ploy of secrecy. “I have to meet with the Countess in person. You can get me there, can’t you?” When Julian’s face fell did she peer curiously at him, underscored by concern. “...You can’t go there, can you?”

At the right guess, Julian flinched but nodded glumly. He laughed weakly, mirthlessly. “We have something in common, Sypha. The last thing you’d expect us to.” He lifted his sleeve to reveal his murderer’s brand with a strained expression. “We’re both Count killers, but for entirely different reasons.”

“You...” Sypha tried, wringing her mind delicately, “It’s a long story, isn’t it? And not one easily explained.”

Julian nodded stiffly. “Long, if I could even remember it.” He gave Sypha a pained look. “All I know is I’m innocent, and I can’t even prove it. I don’t remember what happened. There’s...ah, gaps in my memory. Holes I don’t know where to begin to fill. Not that I could, even if I wanted to.” He flinched when he felt Sypha’s hand comfortingly on his arm, face helplessly reddening as he didn’t know how to react to it. His sole eye was wide, churning with yearning and indecision alike, even if they couldn’t afford to get too close while astride their horses.

“Can you get me as far as you can? Once I’ve met the Countess, I’ll have to begin finding those vampires still loyal to Dracula. And I’ll need an expert guide to take me,” Sypha admitted gently while squeezing Julian’s bicep before gathering both reins in her hands and urging her horse into a canter. “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”

Julian’s visage succumbed to an honest smile as he spurred his at a similar pace. “Not if I have anything to say about it!” the doctor crowed back as they raced together towards the gates, churning a dust cloud in their wakes.

* * *

It would feel like the breadth of several hours, at least, between the time Julian and Sypha temporarily parted ways just before the gates of the castle that the Speaker advanced alone towards. Vesuvia was far more than she would’ve believed possible to cram into one city, so used to the smaller towns and villages of Wallachia that felt so modest in comparison. If anything, it just affirmed her need to never plant roots, to travel further than she’d known possible. Once, Dracula had threatened the existence of all humans. Now, with him gone, this only cemented her want to keep traveling and pushing the boundaries of her comfort zone further than she’d thought possible.

“Really, it’s quite an honor to meet you, Miss Belnades,” the Countess said after they’d made their introductions, Sypha finding her to be one of the most beautiful women she’d ever met. With everyone gathered around a lavish spread at the table, dusk beginning to fall upon the city-state, even Sypha couldn’t believe how much time had passed.

“Please, the pleasure is mine, Lady Satrinava.” Part of her wished there was a polite way of marveling at the expense laid out, of the sheer amount of color and variety in the dishes. “Really, I wouldn’t think what we did was truly so unusual...”

Nadia smiled indulgently and evenly, plum-colored lips turning at the corners modestly. “I don’t think I can impress upon you the amount of debt the world may not realize it owes.” Her coppery features drew tiredly, russet gaze passing over the blonde to the view of the strange painting commissioned long ago by the late Count. “I remember this Count Dracula. What a brilliant man he seemed. To think we were this close to becoming his sheep to the slaughter… It’s something that keeps me up at night, sometimes. I still remember the visions I had of what would’ve been if you three hadn’t succeeded,” the Countess admitted after a long interlude, the servants present exchanging knowing looks between each other. “That’s why I truly wish I didn’t have to call you here, but I didn’t know to who else I would turn. No one I’m aware of has dealt with vampires before, much less encountered them.”

Sypha took pause from a bite of her roast salmon, suddenly losing the will to eat further. She set her fork down gently, trying to avoid too noisy of a clatter. “Countess, can I confide something in you in return?” Nadia perked at the request, fingers delicately clasped about her wine glass but paused before truly drinking. “In my tribe, my people, as Speakers—we’re used to our acts going unrecognized. Our dues are to remembering history as it happened and keeping it untainted from those who would seek to pervert it.” Nadia nodded knowingly, silent encouragement to continue. “We seek to do as much good as possible regardless of recognition. Even in Wallachia, I don’t think people really realize who saved them so much as what was prevented. Therefore, even here, I want to help you and your people without that expectation of wanting or needing anything in return. And that I mean no offense by it, Lady Satrinava.”

Nadia’s lips spanned wide as she leaned back and finally took a sip of her wine. “Your people are very noble and honorable, Sypha. As are you,” she replied with genuine gladness in her serene countenance. “But please, call me Lady Nadia if you insist on being formal. You’re my guest, after all, and you’re doing us a great service. And,” she interjected with a snap of her fingers, bejeweled fingers clinking together, “you must have questions. Regarding this task at hand, I’m sure.”

Sypha could sigh in relief at Nadia’s understanding. Tugging her tunic a little more closed at the hem, she broached, “Can you please describe what’s been happening? And where in the city these attacks are concentrated?”

Nadia nodded firmly, gaze becoming steely, but not as an affront to her guest. “People have been appearing as dead, only to show up again in the morning, dead, in the Flooded District. What distinguishes these deaths is that the bodies are drained of blood at two points of entry on their necks. Doubtless something you’d recognize as being a vampire’s handiwork.”

The blonde rose from her seat, inclining her head towards Nadia. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’d like to begin work tonight before there are any more victims. And since vampires can’t venture in the daylight, I don’t think there’s a more perfect time.”

The Countess rose with her and smiled encouragingly one last time. “Please, as you will, Miss Belnades. All of Vesuvia prays for your success.”

* * *

“Doctor, do you know where this Flooded District is?” Sypha demanded roughly a half hour later inside the Rowdy Raven where the man himself had been engrossed in what appeared to be a game of strip poker with a gaggle of fawning women crooning over his play with an older gentleman.

Julian flushed brightly at his own state of dishevelment, his loose shirt barely clinging to his upper arms while his chest practically spilled indecorously from his top. While Sypha seemed completely unfazed by his state of undress, the man smiled apologetically at his opponent and mouthed an apology before fumbling to redress himself. “Ah, um, yes! The Flooded District, you said?” he confirmed back to her, swallowing thickly and tucking an auburn curl behind his ear. “I— Sorry, but, ah...what’s in the Flooded District?”

God, she was lucky she’d faced worse from Trevor in his near-perpetual states of drunkenness. “That’s where the Countess told me bodies of vampire victims have been found. And it’s where I think Dracula’s vestigial followers may still be hiding,” Sypha explained while pretending to ignore Julian struggling back into his black overcoat.

“Right. The victims,” the man echoed as if it were a revelation. “Ahem, but yes. I know the speediest route to the Flooded District, no horses or long, cumbersome journeys necessary.” He grinned puckishly at Sypha who only quirked a brow at him.

“And this special route you’re suggesting; we’re not going to emerge from it covered in shit and slime, are we?” she asked sardonically with an arched brow while Julian finally managed to fasten his elbow-length gloves on, creaking as he flexed his fingers inside the leather.

Julian couldn’t help but snicker at Sypha’s blunt use of language, mirth evident in his eye. “Yes, I’m perfectly certain we won’t emerge covered in ‘ _shit and slime_ ,’ as you say, Miss Belnades.” He bowed dramatically as he ushered her from the tavern. “After you, my lovely little bluebell.”

* * *

As promised, they managed to find a route that did the double duty of avoiding streets normally congested with foot traffic and sentries especially, making it there just at the turn of sunset to nighttime, Sypha unable to help but marvel aloft at the dizzy constellations and the milky ribbon of the Milky Way spanning across the whole of the sky. More than once did Sypha nearly collide with her escort’s back, much to his amusement.

“I think this might serve our purposes better,” Julian said slyly a moment later as he linked arms with Sypha who was compliant enough. “What do you think, dear?”

“I think you’re clingier than a barnacle,” Sypha teased without malice, earning an impish smile on Julian’s behalf. “But the sky is so different here. It’s beautiful.” She grew silent for a moment, cornflower eyes turned downwards as Julian took pause, inquisitive. “You know, I want to see the sky and how it looks in so many different places. Wallachia is like home, yes, but...I’ve never felt peace from remaining in the same place for so long. I wonder if it isn’t in the blood of the Speakers to feel like that. To see history as it unfolds in as many places as they can.”

“So, basically, you have a hereditary case of wanderlust, and it doesn’t diminish through the generations, doesn’t it?” Sypha bobbed her head in confirmation. “I couldn’t agree more. But, I think you and I will always have that place special in our hearts. You have your Wallachia, just as I have Vesuvia.”

Sypha grew quiet as they walked over one of many footbridges in the district, sloshing through waters in more than one place but managing to keep relatively quiet. “Maybe you’d like it in Wallachia,” Sypha suggested uncertainly, daring a look at the older man. “Not permanently by any stretch of the imagination, no, but...just to see the night sky. Even if it were only once. I could show you all of the constellations if you’d like, too.” She couldn’t help but giggle at another thought. “I think you’d like Alucard and Trevor, too. Just as long as you don’t try goading Alucard into playing strip poker, so you have to promise me that. Trevor, on the other hand...he’s a lost cause. He might even suggest it first.”

“That explains why you didn’t appear surprised when you saw me like...aha, well, _that_ ,” Julian said with a gentle laugh, chortling some. “You must be used to it.”

“Oh, you have no idea! Don’t even get me started, because we’d be here all night,” she jested back while ribbing Julian who exaggerated a wince, they dissolving into laughter. That was, until the loud sound of cawing drew their attentions at once.

“Malak? What is it?” Julian said to a raven that circled overhead, warbling at them before Sypha and Julian exchanged determined looks and broke into a run after the sleek, black bird. They were hot on the avian’s tail while the raven cawed at them at intervals so they wouldn’t lose him amid the stewing, dark sea of stars. Malak cawed one last time before fluttering his descent on a bloated, bobbing corpse that formed slight ripples when the rook landed squarely on it and pecked at frayed bits of fabric.

Sypha made way to the corpse first, neither truly phased as the blonde seized the cadaver and hauled it upon the embankment and on its back while Malak flew away squawking. The man they found had rheumy eyes glazed over in death, waxy and ashy skin, and already points of discoloration from being drained—even gauntness that was the most apparent in the face, giving the appearance of age. “Julian, can you tell how long he’s been dead?” Sypha asked the doctor over her shoulder.

Julian genuflected on one knee and leafed through one of the pouches he carried on his person, producing what appeared to be miniature lantern that could allow better lighting. With the help of Sypha’s pyokinesis, light flooded on the cadaver’s cheek and Julian seemed to study it and the wound marks with unflinching concentration. “Nearing two days,” he said with a note of finality before dousing the small lantern and facing Sypha.

“It could be a trap. I don’t think they’re stupid enough to be this careless. Whatever left these corpses wanted them to be found,” Sypha surmised thoughtfully, brows furrowing. “The question is, by who? For whom?”

“Oh yes, for who, indeed!” a rasping voice teased above their heads, both jolting into a battle poise. Aloft, a pale, black-haired vampiress with lengthy tresses billowed unnaturally in the breeze while being suspended several stories above them. “My, my, well done, little mouse! And what a comely friend you’ve brought. My dear coven was growing famished.”

“Julian, your swords!” Sypha suddenly ordered while Julian unsheathed his swords as hastily as he could, at her command. Fishing through her sash pockets did she produce a bottle of holy water she smashed upon both sabers that hissed as they quenched their holy element into the blade, fizzling away and beginning to glow faintly.

“Ah, useful trick,” Julian marveled before taking a more prudent battle stance. “Sypha!”

The blonde needed no further push as she made her gestures and from the chilly air did a sudden inferno bloom viciously and violently that banished more than the dark, but swallowed the cold and Julian shuddered when he heard the ugly caterwauls of the vampiress as she burned, but transformed into an uglier chiropteran with enormous bat-like wings that carried her high above. Julian took to Sypha’s back and kept his gray eye upon the immortal as she barely avoided squalls of flame that licked her flesh and caused water to evaporate and boil at their feet, hissing heatedly.

It was when the vampire dive bombed him that Julian was forced on the offensive, timing his stroke just right as he managed to strafe it and cleave cleanly through bone, tough hide, and membrane as she shrieked in pain, cleaving off an entire wing. “Julian!” Sypha shouted when she noticed the altercation, grunting while redirecting the direction and flow of the fire and thinning it into a whip that lashed towards the wounded vampiress and coiled about her, Sypha shouting something incomprehensible as it suddenly constricted and sundered the female to ashes that sprayed harmlessly into the cooling waters below.

The pair of them lowered hands and sabers respectively, panting hard. “Are you alright?” Sypha queried after Julian who she heard laugh breathlessly.

“By and large, yes, but—Sypha, have I ever mentioned how incredible you are? I don’t think I’ve ever seen fire magic this potent before,” Julian beamed at the blonde who smiled shyly at him.

“No, I think it’s only the fiftieth time today. Weren’t you trying to break your record?” Sypha remarked despite the strain, not having slept for almost two days. But, she couldn’t allow herself to falter now.

Julian grabbed Sypha from behind and hugged her off her feet, the Speaker flailing like a squirming cat. “Hey, let me down!” she protested through a fit of giggling that only made the doctor grin wider before setting her down on her feet again. When he did, she flicked his nose. “Come on, we have to find the others.”

“Lead the way, Lady Sypha,” Julian teased before following in pursuit of her. The path they took visibly darkened, the levity of just a moment ago lifted like a veil as they proceeded into the heart of what appeared to be the vampires’ coven, having heard the commotion and death of their matron outside. Julian brandished his blades again, glowing brighter in the near total darkness. “Stay by me. I’ll make sure you aren’t hurt.” This he swore, and it made her blush faintly, but she didn’t dwell upon it.

“And I’ll do the same for you,” Sypha rejoined before her fingertips flared to life once more as a circle of protective fire manifested about them. A chorus of feral hissing and multiple pairs of scarlet orbs flashed to life with it, firelight glinting sharply from their bared fangs. A vampire dropped on them by surprise, but Julian bellowed a battle cry and clove through the vampire cleanly, entrails flaming before being reduced to ashes, gasping when the remains of claws assailed his back and he could clearly hear both fabric ripping and terribly deep gashes open on his pale flesh. “Julian!”

“Don’t worry about me!” Julian barked as he leaped over the flames, knowing the scent of his blood would drive them into a frenzy even as his mark flickered to life and began weaving his wounds shut. “Come on, you ugly brutes! Can’t you see a tasty meal when he presents himself?” Even if she couldn’t see it, he wanted to take the brunt of everything. While Sypha was transfixed in horror, she slowly realized what he was doing by dropping his swords. “Sypha, now!”

Horror-struck, Julian valiantly offered himself while the vampires dove for him with abandon, bloodlust driving them into a feeding frenzy as he cried out while claws shred through clothes and flesh alike, fangs goring into his tissue and feeling his consciousness fading from the blood loss. They drank with aplomb and all he could see was the gnashing of bloodied fangs and the snapping of wings and jaws, the darkness of all except burning scarlet eyes—

“ _JULIAN!_ ”

Her voice rose over the chaos and fire suddenly lit the confined space, bolts of concentrated flame bursting in salvos to fend away the vampires from their feeding carnage, screeching terrible notes of pain and discord while Julian’s vision blacked in and out, collapsing to his knees while he felt his mark practically burning a hole in his neck. His smile was mad by that point; mad with pain, with triumph as he watched Sypha battle these wretches like a furious Valkyrie. They dove and screamed for her, but even through her tears did the blonde sunder them almost effortlessly, likely too furious to think of holding back.

When the last one burst into a shower of ashes did the heat fizzle away and Sypha pant hard, fighting back tears before dashing to Julian. “Julian, please—!” she cried out frantically while shredding the rest of his clothing aside and desperately trying to create makeshift bandages from his duster, resting atop her lap and coughing weakly, retaining his madly smug grin.

“Don’t cry, Sypha,” he shushed softly, the blonde regarding him in shock as he brought a finger to his lips and indicated to his torso, bidding her to actually watch. In disbelief did her frantic efforts to save him take pause as she watched his mauled flesh slowly repair itself, even as he winced and his back arched from the horrific burning sensation of it all. “See?” he choked out on a breathless laugh. “There’s— _agh!_ —nothing to worry about.” He hissed through his teeth and his face flushed with the heat, feeling so feverish he wanted to tear off his skin just to escape the torture. Panting hard, he resigned to resting on Sypha’s lap, breathing still stertorous but beginning to slow. Clawed fingers scratched at his mark in agony, Sypha’s eyes following the motion.

“Is that how you’ve been doing it? Healing me, and yourself?” she ventured in disbelief when it seemed like he’d regenerated more, Julian nodding feebly.

“Yes, and it’s _unbearable_. My curse to bear,” he chuckled despite the strain on his chest. But as the pain ebbed further and further away, Julian settled and sighed into Sypha’s lap, almost blissful, nearly content. “Mm, see? That wasn’t so bad.”

Sypha shook her head, wiping away the sting of tears with the back of her hand. “Julian, how could you do something so thoughtless? You could’ve died!” she scolded with ferocity in her eyes, the doctor unusually serene.

“But, I didn’t,” he rejoined pointedly. Then, his smile faltered before falling slack. “I’m no hero, Sypha. Bait, certainly. A magnet for trouble, always. But a hero? Mm, no, that’s more your forte. Nothing wrong with fitting into our elected roles, hm?” Then, a shadow of that smile. “I’m a terrible person, through and through. Saving you for the vainglory, now this? Hm, nope! This is as good as I’ll ever get.”

A pregnant pause spanned between them, broken only by the flooded waters lapping on the concrete. “What are you trying to say? That you did all this for some...selfish reason?” Sypha tried, holding both of Julian’s cheeks and forcing him to look at her.

He blushed at the contact, trying to avert his eye, tongue tied in knots. “I, um—well, why else? It’s… It’s just who I am. Probably not the right person to bring with you to see Wallachia’s constellations with.”

Sypha sighed, frowning at him. “You’re an idiot.” Before he had a chance to rebut, Sypha craned down and reached to plant her lips on his, feeling his mouth go slack. Conversely wanting to flee from indecision while his neck craned to chase it, her. His lithe fingers carded through her short locks of hair, trying to kiss her again and again. “And you’re a worse liar. The worst one I know,” she said after pulling apart, huffing while appraising his nearly closed wounds. Julian sighed with disappointment despite being almost utterly mollified. “Come on. You need a change of clothes or else you’ll catch a chill.”

Mutely did Julian compliantly gather his legs beneath him as Sypha slowly brought him to a stand, the man not yet in any condition to walk on his own. He leaned heavily into the Speaker, inhaling the scent of her hair. She chuffed in amusement. “Ah—Alright, I’ll stop sniffing your hair now,” Julian cracked with a weak laugh, shivering. “Oh, it… It really is cold.”

As they picked their way back to the Center City, a careful shamble on Julian’s behalf, a comfortable silence fell over them. Enough that it drove Julian to distraction. “...I’m sorry if I jeopardized this for you. But, I am honest. I am a terrible person, through and through,” his voice lilted some, heaving a sigh. “Not even a brief stint in vigilantism can change that.”

Sypha smiled up at him. “You know I had a friend who was once completely nihilistic and another who lost everything, right? You might have competition when it comes to brooding. And for the record? I still don’t believe it. That you’re as terrible as you say.”

Julian huffed in mock indigence, but he warmed at the sight of her smile. “And what can I do to convince you of this fact, Sypha?” he quipped with a cheeky grin. “Besides trying to outpace your friends.”

Sypha looked thoughtful, humming. “You might convince me somewhere between here and Wallachia. Maybe once we get to watching the stars, I’ll rest soundly knowing you’re an irredeemable scoundrel.”

Julian laughed tiredly, eyes shining with the light from the waking morning bazaars.

“I think I can manage that.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was a complete crackship that just worked in my head. Am I sorry for it? LOLNAH.


End file.
